


Do Not Disturb

by HannibalSolo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humorous Ending, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm actually very proud, Le suck it world!, Lime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:45:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalSolo/pseuds/HannibalSolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki games and playfulness. Fury angry. Bruce sweet. Tony ass without really being in story. Hulk wrote this summary. Now, must smash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Disturb

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a little racier than the stuff I usually write, but I re-read it after letting it sit on ice for a while and I think it's worth posting. I forgot how hilarious I can be. I swear I'm not usually this pompous, but I'm really happy with this cracked fic.

Do Not Disturb—Loki x Reader (One-Shot)  
Note: I don’t own anything Marvel-related, and I don’t own Foreigner’s or Peggy Lee’s awesome lyrics/songs.

The air was cool and sterile as you breathed through your nose, biting your lip in intense concentration over the lab results that swam before your tired and slightly blood-shot eyes. A hand gently tugged at your shoulder. You grunted irritably and shrugged it off, forgetting yourself in your absorption with the data. There was a light chuckle, and you blinked, coming to your senses and turning slowly to face your colleague, Dr. Bruce Banner. He quirked an eyebrow at you, as you looked at him expectantly and somewhat impatiently. “You need to take a nap or something. I can handle things in here long enough for you to at least do that.” He saw a familiar defiant and grim glint enter your eyes, and he added stutteringly, “In fact, considering this is kind of my lab and you’re kind of my subordinate, I order you from the lab, before you go getting that snippy tone you always do.” You pouted and glared, but, now that your mind had a minute to assess its current state, it informed you that you were indeed exhausted. Director Nick Fury had been rushing these test results for new weapons tech that would prove leaps and bounds ahead of where S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current offensive operations were, hounding you, Dr. Banner, and billionaire, genius Tony Stark alternately on a regular basis for the past three weeks. It wore you down to a special degree of salty that made you feel like someone should be shaking you over a batch of French fries. 

Of course, it didn’t help that the Avengers had a special guest staying in the tower and making life a daily stress-a-thon. A special guest who delighted in playing very nasty practical jokes on the unsuspecting hero or S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, when he wasn’t feeling merciful and keeping to himself. That’s right, Loki--Mr. Liar-Pants, Mischief-Managed, God-King himself—was living among you, as part of his punishment, but really it sometimes felt as if maybe you all were the ones being punished. He seemed to target you the least, which was always a sore point for Tony and Clint Barton (aka Hawkeye), both of whom received the brunt of Loki’s absurd and heinous wrath. 

Still you hadn’t been pranked or tortured in an unsettlingly long time, so you can be forgiven for feeling a mite jumpy as you walked to your apartment room in Stark Tower, having left the lab after thanking Bruce with a small smile and kiss upon the cheek. He’d blushed and shooed you out, fond of you in a perfectly platonic manner, though Tony made some really awful jokes about chemistry when you and Bruce got into excited discussions about ionic compounds and how much you both loved the movie “Flubber.” It was somewhat awful, but so endearing! However, I digress. You were walking back to your room, attempting to throw off the feeling that you were being watched, rolling your shoulders and cracking your knuckles reflexively. 

You reached your door, unlocking it and stepping inside, before promptly re-locking it. The eerie, being stalked sensation dissipated to a tolerably ignorable level, and your aching body relaxed. You entered the bathroom attached to your spacious yet comfortable sanctuary, brushing your hair, which often helped to soothe your nerves after a long day. You’d thankfully already taken a shower earlier that day, before the thought of Fury’s shadow darkening your door pushed you to rush to the lab to start working again. After a minute of brushing, you decided to pull your hair into a tight bun, so that it would be curly and wavy when you woke up. You almost groaned thinking of Tony’s reaction. He would, of course, notice the change you’d made because he lived to embarrass the hell out of everyone. He would look you over, smirking, and calling your name, saying, “Nice hair. I always knew you liked things a bit kinky.” Then he would wink, before whoever was closest slapped him upside the head. That last bit made you smirk evilly at the thought.

You turned your whole Itunes on shuffle, letting an eclectic mix that reflected your eclectic personality play lightly in the background, while you stripped down to your favorite cute yet comfy panties and an over-sized, yellow t-shirt that had “Nevermind the Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols” across the front. You put on some cute black socks that had rainbow lettering on them, reading “Left Foot” on one and “Right Foot” on the other repeatedly. You walked over to your Keurig and rummaged around in the small bin beside it for a hot cocoa k-cup, crying, “A-ha!” upon your successful recovery of one from the very bottom. You needed to restock soon. You knew you were supposed to nap, but you were going to unwind properly first. As sweet, delicious ambrosia unfurled hissing and flowing into your custom-made David Bowie mug with a picture of his—get this—mug-shot(!), you were searching behind your minibar in the far corner for your bag of mini-marshmallows. You’re pretty adorable, just saying.

~Loki’s POV~  
An evil smile curled across my face as I observed her leaving the lab, having just finished Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maughm, I was itching to stretch my limbs and torture one of my captors, as I generally liked to think of them all as being culpable for my current desolation and degraded status. It slightly nagged at my conscience that she had actually been the one to recommend the book to me, and I’d very much enjoyed it, but I mentally growled at the thought to scare it off, which seemed to only work to a certain extent. It still lingered, but in the back of my mind, quietly. 

My focus returned to the hunt. I easily snuck into her room and continued watching as she went through some bizarre, female-Midgardian rituals. I was cloaked from her eyes, but I decided to strengthen the cloak to see what she did when she was relaxed. I admitted to a certain curiosity when it came to her. She was so…inexplicable to me, which is why I usually didn’t bother her as much. Also, she was more tolerable of my presence than the others. When I wasn’t making trouble for her or her pet Dr. Banner, she talked to me in an almost friendly manner, which, though still an affront (I was a god after all), was a refreshing development compared to the hostile stares and ubiquitous, sanctimonious platitudes all of the Avengers delighted in delivering to me(even, and sometimes especially, Thor). 

She would react to my assertions of superiority with a veneer of congenial neutrality and even compliance, but then I would catch a small smirk when she thought I couldn’t see, and her lovely, mesmerizing eyes would gleam with a repressed spark of humor like that of a parent or teacher with a particularly troublesome child. It was vexing and damnable! How dare she! Yet, this sickly sweet feeling would pierce my heart whenever I caught that glimpse of affectionate humor and condescension at my expense. Somehow, it made me more fascinated with her, which made me irritable because I didn’t want to feel that way at all. 

I was a god and a king, and she was a mere Midgardian, who dared laugh at me. Like I were senile or delusional! However, I didn’t strike her down or crush her. I stuttered and huffed and growled, speechless and embarrassed. Often this happened in front of one of the far less likeable Avengers, and that was insufferable. Powerless and shamed, and she was amused and friendly. I needed to get my revenge, and remind her who held the power in this relationship. Not that she was in a relationship with me that extended beyond a king and his insubordinate and rogue subject. I would right her. Despite her cool veneer, I obviously had the power to unnerve her, which made me smile again, thinking of her wary motions in the hallway. 

Lost in thought for a moment, I looked up and froze, stock-still like a deceased Midgardian going into this state of rigor mortis I’d read about in a dusty textbook. Music began playing from the Midgardian’s computer, which isn’t what startled me. She was taking her clothes off, and my breath almost caught in my throat. She was in nothing more than some frilly, Midgardian-woman undergarments and a large t-shirt with cute little socks. Despite my Frost Giant heritage, a certain heat crept up my cheeks, and I suddenly knew exactly what to do to exact my revenge. I grinned lasciviously and waited.

~Your POV~  
The marshmallows turned out to be in one of the bottom cabinets, forcing you to bend over as you rifled for them. You were completely un-self-conscious about putting yourself in this position, while standing about in your unmentionables, because you (poor innocent you) thought you were alone. You returned to your freshly made beverage, dumping a suitable load of fluffy goodness into the mug, watching happily as the little puffs melted slowly, turning into more of a gelatinous foam. You blew incessantly on the drink until you felt a bit dizzy, setting it on the counter as Foreigner’s “Cold As Ice” began playing on your Itunes. You smiled contentedly and began singing along, actually proving remarkably good, except where you intentionally sang out of key for dramatic effect. “You’re as cold as ice! You’re willing to sacrifice our love! You never take advice! Someday you’ll pay the price I know!” You twirled around, striking rock-star poses, as you mimicked singing into a microphone exaggeratedly, once or twice shaking your butt. When it broke into the chorus, you stopped where you were, closing your eyes and throwing a hand in the air, as you sang, “I’ve seen it before. It happens all the time. You’re closing a door. You leave the world behind. You’re digging for gold. You’re throwing away a fortune in feelings, but someday you’ll pay!” 

You giggled insatiably for your own silliness, and returned to your cocoa, which was drinkable by this point. After finishing that you approached your laptop, putting on your peaceful, soothing playlist. The first song that played was “Johnny Guitar” by Peggy Lee. You proceeded to flop down onto your queen-sized bed, curling your favorite blanket from your adolescence around you, which you’d lugged with you wherever you went ever since your senior year of high school. It was more a comforter than a blanket, but the material was so worn and soft that it was friendlier than the average comforter, and somehow it always managed to smell like home. Like fresh linen, vanilla, and familiarity. Within moments you were soundly asleep, your alarm clock set to wake you in four hours. You needed more than that, but felt taking anymore would incur the fury of Nick…well, Fury. Sheesh, it was even in his freakin’ name.

~Loki POV~  
I am aware of the pressure that she has been under due to Director Fury’s taxing demands. There are bags under her eyes that I see more markedly upon examining her closely, now that she is asleep. It made me want to show the S.H.I.E.L.D. director the business end of my scepter, but I didn’t know why nor did I even possess the scepter to carry out such an action were I to even understand my own motivations. But, no! My revenge. She still needed to learn her lesson. I approached the alarm clock she had set to rouse herself from her slumber, and I derived how to disable the mechanism from having observed how she had handled it. Then I slowly sat next to her on the bed, frowning. Would that be enough? To have Fury enraged at her. Because that is obviously the reason I disabled her alarm. Yes, self, yes, Loki, that is it. Then I felt a small thought creep up from a brutally honest inner voice. Perhaps, you do this because you want her to actually get a full rest…Because you care? You, Loki Laufeyson, have feelings for a Midgardian…

An angry growl almost escaped my throat, but I choked it back down, looking at her back, as it slowly rose and sank. I forced my thoughts away from me, allowing no room for speculation, stripping down to my dark green, silk boxers. I approached her small, curled-up, sleeping form, deftly and skillfully maneuvering beneath her blanket next to her without jostling her body, which, in contrast to my icy aura, radiated a delicious warmth. I wrapped an arm around her middle section, across her stomach, as I pulled closer and nuzzled my face in the crook formed by her painfully inviting neck and shoulder.

I adjusted the blanket slightly to encompass us both more efficiently. Holding my breath as I pulled her close against my bare chest, waiting for her to wake and scream at me, which would happen anyway, and it was going to be hilarious, but nonetheless I wanted to hold her for a bit longer before it came to that. She stirred, and I stiffened, shocked when she proceeded to snuggle closer to me, mumbling sleepily, “Loki…wish this wasn’t a dream.” Her arm moved over mine, hugging it tighter against her abdomen. I smiled triumphantly. She returned my feelings. Knowing this meant I could play some wonderful games. I looked at her peaceful, unconscious expression, kissing her temple. Yes, some very wonderful games. Soon, I myself succumbed to sleep’s insistent summons. 

~Your POV~   
You awoke feeling divine, sitting up and pulling your hair loose, fluffing out the cute waviness of it all as you sank back down luxuriously. You sure didn’t feel like you’d only slept for four hours, relishing in how utterly rested and tranquil you felt. Then you realized there was a hand resting possessively on your inner thigh, recognizing that, whoever the hand belonged to, that person was rubbing his thumb soothingly in circles. On your inner thigh. Lying next to you in your bed. To your credit, you were so tranquil that you managed to not scream, but instead you slowly glanced at your mystery partner. 

You couldn’t help but stare. Because it was Loki. Loki in nothing but—you swiftly peeked under the blanket—in nothing but his boxers. An entire spectrum of emotions passed through you, each one competing for dominance. There was rage and indignation. Next came affectionate regard (like the kind one has for a baby animal that tries to growl at everyone, only to look like the most docile being in the world while asleep). Then came a pure pang of deeper attachment, so small and passing so quickly, you convinced yourself you imagined it. Then, there was lust. I mean, who could blame you? The dark, ebony locks and practically edible jawline and those fierce and brilliant eyes. Not to mention, those perfectly formed lips, and the perfectly formed everything else. *Lots of obvious winking and nudging* Sorry, forgive my cornball-ness. You were almost lulled into complacency by Loki’s “sleep-stroking” and your blissfully energized body. That’s when you looked at the clock and realized why you miraculously felt well-rested. 

It was not the result of a miracle at all, but the fact that you had been asleep for nine hours, not four. You checked your alarm, careful not to rouse Loki. It was switched off. You returned to your initial emotion of anger. Gritting your teeth, you wrenched the blanket off and whipped around, facing the now awakening Asgardian. “Loki. Laufeyson. WHAT DID YOU DO?” You began to breathe very rapidly, forgetting Loki for a second, as you searched desperately for your phone. You hopped back onto the bed ripping pillows up, glancing around on the floor, hanging over the edge to check beneath the bed. Moving to sit up again, you felt an arm snake around your waist, as Loki turned you around abruptly, yanking you to his chest and into his lap, holding his hand up.

“Looking for this, little human?” he asked deviously, and you recognized your cell in his hand, above your reach at that moment. You were so panic-stricken that you lunged up for it, playing right into Loki’s playful trap. As you tried to grab the phone from him, you toppled over, on top of him, straddling the God of Mischief and Lies. Go you, even accidently. You cried out victoriously when you got a hold of it, but almost dropped it from the pleasurable shivers that crawled along your spine, as Loki began massaging up and down along your inner thighs, getting teasingly close to “other things.” Your mouth and throat got really dry suddenly, making it hard to swallow, and it became hard to think clearly as well.

“N-no! Bad, Loki! Bad!” you managed to sputter out, moving to hop away and escape, even if it meant potentially running into Tony Stark in your underwear and a giant Sex Pistols shirt. Anticipating your plan, Loki quickly flipped you over, moving his hands to your butt to pull you more totally beneath him, pulling your legs up around him. It was very Dr. Frankenfurter of him. He used one hand to pin your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip, as he ducked his head into kiss your neck, dragging a moan from your lips. Loki briefly detached his lips and pulled back to look you in the eyes. 

“So, I assume that noise means you are enjoying me and my many valuable assets,” he said, watching you watch him nervously. He smirked confidently and happily. “This will be the most effective means of controlling a rebellious one like you. Already you seem more willing and docile.” *Sigh* He had to open his fat, sexy mouth. Isn’t it just like a god to ruin the moment? The mood shattered by Loki’s arrogance, your boiling blood and flash of indignity, and the fact that Loki didn’t seem to recognize that he had said anything wrong, you used his moment of gloating as the perfect opportunity to shove “his highness” onto the floor. On his perfectly formed ass. 

He was so shocked he didn’t react initially, as you strode to your dresser, pulling out jeggings, yanking them on, then pulling out a tan tank top and a semi-see-through tan shirt made of a slippery fabric and patterned with pink, blossoming flowers on deep brown tree branches. “You dare?” Loki asked, incredulous. You fixed him with the deadliest glare you could conjure as he stood there awaiting a response. You said nothing, walking over to your bathroom, hearing him follow, and slamming the door in his face. You began to tug at the bottom of the Sex Pistols shirt, when he used magic to appear in the bathroom. You grumbled, exiting to your room again. He followed suit once more. You huffed. “Fine, watch if that’s what you want.” You threw the shirt over your head, still in your bra. You made a point of stretching out lazily and making deep sighing sounds as you stretched, on the off chance that this would agitate Loki. You slowly fumbled with the tank top, glancing nonchalantly in his direction. He was watching, his jaw tightly clenched, and you noticed in your peripheral something else was tightly clenched too. Perhaps you’d done too well. You looked away, hiding your spiteful smirk as you slipped the tank top on, only to have hands around your waist stop you half-way down.

You felt something press against you, and you blushed knowingly. Loki flipped you around, looking into your eyes with an arousing and frighteningly intense desire flashing in his own, drawing you as close as possible, one hand slipping down to caress your rear, the other gripping you gently but firmly by the nape of your neck, tangled in your hair. Your hands are pressed against his chest. “A god doesn’t like to be teased, love,” he breathed raggedly, biting your ear lobe and sucking, trailing his lips down along your collar bone, until he reached your mouth and pressed down in a hot, sweet kiss, moving his lips against yours smoothly. You panted rapidly, gasping, which Loki perceived as an opportunity to take over your mouth with his cool, flexible tongue. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one burying itself desperately in his soft hair. He picked you up, setting you on the counter, continuing to kiss you as his hands slid up your thighs and began unbuttoning the jeggings you’d only just put on. A desperate keen vibrated through his throat as he struggled to get your pants off, while simultaneously claiming the rest of you. Then someone knocked on the door rapidly.

You were extremely conflicted. You wanted to get it on with Loki, for obvious reasons, but you also wanted to snub him for being such an ass because nobody walked all over you (unless their name was Nick Fury, apparently). So the knocking at the door was a mixed blessing. Loki looked absolutely infuriated and devastated. You almost felt bad, but composed yourself. Shoving Loki away you re-fastened your pants and finished getting dressed, attempting to calm your heart rate and hoping pre-sex wasn’t something that could be detected by sight or smell or anything. Loki looked at you like you’d kicked his puppy, that despair and longing and defeat. Suddenly, you felt an evil smile curl across your face. 

Even as Director Fury’s angry calls beckoned you, you turned to Loki with this sadistic grin. You approached him very quickly. “You may be a god, Loki, or demi-god, or whatever,” you began dismissively, “But I’m a woman, an extremely intelligent woman. I don’t know about Asgardian women, but many Midgardian women don’t like to be played with or to be controlled. So, you ever say something like that again, I’ll make you hurt so badly,” as you said this you began stroking the bulge under his boxers, pulling away to continue speaking, eliciting a tiny whimper, “That giving birth to a horse will seem as easy as a peg-legged, tavern wench.” Then you pulled away, making your way to the door.  
Right as Fury’s shouting started up again, and you almost to the door, you were turned around. Loki looked at you with the saddest, most-apologetic eyes you’d ever seen. He cleared his throat, clearly fighting against his current “needs.” “I should not have said what I did. As my partner, I view you as—my equal, or as close as is possible, that is, if you will be my partner?” He struggled with the words for various reasons. You were not unmoved by them, especially considering how hard they must’ve been for Loki to say. No pun intended. You really did like Loki, and felt that with the right guidance he could be trained and reformed.

“Yes, Loki. I’ll be your partner, though we Midgardians call it being girlfriend and boyfriend,” you said, smiling sweetly, before smirking evilly. He looked a bit scared now. “But only on a couple conditions. First, you must apologize properly. And second, you have to ask my permission to make love to me properly.” He looked like this proposition pained him, but he really wanted you and he was feeling desperate.

“F-fine—I am truly sorry for speaking so rudely to you, my love. May I, please, make love to you, right now?” he said shakily. You ignored Fury, absorbed in your victory.

“What was that last part, Loki, my love?” You drew closer to him, teasingly. He grunted.

“May I, please, please, make love to you? Right now?” 

“Well, I suppose there’s no harm in it,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging. 

In a matter of seconds your pants were gone, then your socks, then your bra, and then Fury shouted, “Alright, that’s it! I’m coming in there, if I have to bust this damn door down!” Loki gave a sharp hiss.

“For the love of your God, don’t you dare disturb us, Fury!” Loki shouted, before ramming you, completely naked now, against the door.

~Director Nick Fury POV~  
Director Fury stood outside of her room. She was a good scientist and had never had any problems like this before, but this was unacceptable. He’d been standing here for a good 10 minutes knocking and shouting. He knew she was in there. Finally, he got fed up, shouting, “Alright, that’s it! I’m coming in there, if I have to bust this damn door down!” There was a small moment of silence, a sound like a snake hissing.

Then a voice from within howled, “For the love of your God, don’t you dare disturb us, Fury!” That was not her voice. In fact, Fury knew whose voice that was. He stood perfectly still for a moment. He was a smart man.

Without a word Nick Fury walked down the hall, boarded the elevator, and harassed Tony about picking up the slack. Yes, Nick Fury was a smart man indeed. Because neither gods nor women appreciated being interrupted.

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe I hope you all enjoyed it! Please feel free to comment :)


End file.
